


Ramona and the Blue Box

by primsong



Category: Doctor Who and Ramona Series crossover
Genre: Beverly Cleary, Children's Literature, Crossover, Fourth Doctor Era, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-05
Updated: 2010-10-05
Packaged: 2017-10-12 10:47:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,593
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/124076
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/primsong/pseuds/primsong
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Doctor finds himself in for an interesting afternoon when he and Romana land on Klickitat Street. Or was it Ramona? A lighthearted crossover with the classic Beverly Cleary series, including Ribsy.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: This entire story stemmed from a slip of the tongue while my family was driving and discussing the varying relationships the Doctor had had with his companions, in which an attempt at saying "Four and Romana" came out as "Four and Ramona." The reaction in the car was to immediately demand a fic. For those unfamiliar with them, Ramona is a character from a series of well-known classic children's books by Beverly Cleary, set on Klickitat Street and it's immediate area in Portland, Oregon in the 1950s, though I don't think you'd have to be too familiar with them to still enjoy the tale.

**Chapter 1**

"That jump was slightly longer than it should have been," Romana said.

"No, no, probably fine," the Doctor mumbled. He was still sucking on a singed finger from the recent sparking one of the console controls had given him, so the mumbling might have been forgiven, but Romana had other concerns regarding his answer.

She reached over and flipped a toggle then turned to peer at the scanner as it opened. "What does that sign there say?"

"Klickitat," he read.

"That long car over there…"

"A station wagon. Love those, bit like a private bus. They had these clever seats that popped right up in the back, though I expect you had to practically be a double-amputee to be comfortable for leg room, conceptually the entire world could be seen going backwards..."

" _Doctor_. We are not discussing the merits of going backwards. It's an _American_ style car, isn't it?"

"Well, I suppose, but…"

She pointed accusingly at a portion of the gauge on the console. "It's off. See? I told you; we're clear on the opposite side of the planet!"

"No need to jump to conclusions. Klickitat could be a British name. I mean, if they can have names like Droitwich and Wrecclesham, you have to admit it's possible."

"Now you're just trying to rationalize."

"Biggleswade," he continued, "And Piddington do give it a run, don't you think? Why, it's a natural mistake," he said, patting the console. "Anyone could make it."

"This is _not_ Britain; this is the North American continent," Romana said firmly. "Western America, judging by the plant life."

"Oh, I don't know about that," he said, looking at the scanner again. "Well, all right. It looks a bit like it. A little. But for all we know, Picadilly could be practically down the street."

Romana rolled her eyes. "Just admit you're half a _planet_ off. And what about the date? What does that gauge you were tinkering with read? The one you're now hiding under your fingers?"

He looked mildly offended. "I wasn't."

"What does it say?" she persisted.

"All right, I admit it's not working properly either. Yet. But don't worry, I've learned how to scientifically pinpoint the date on Earth by a completely natural means. No batteries required."

"I mean more specifically than whether or not it's snowing."

He grinned and hit the door control. "And so do I. Go fetch us a newspaper, will you?"

"I'll go, but only because I think we'll be more quickly on our way that way," she said with slight annoyance.

"Capital idea. I'll go down and run a few tests on her chronometrical connections while you do that. Blow off the dust."

After a careful look around to check for any observers, Romana stepped out into what appeared to be a small graveled alleyway that ran between two sets of houses, lined partially with wooden fencing and neatly clipped boxwood and rhododendron bushes. The main road being just to the right, she quickly walked down to the sidewalk and then along it, glancing up and down for anything that might resemble an Earth-styled rectangular newspaper dispenser or kiosk.

The houses were all fronted with small lawns, each sporting a metal postal box on a post at the end of their driveways but there were no newspaper dispensers, not even any local shops anywhere to be seen, just more houses. Settling her hat more firmly on her head, she sighed and chose the direction with slightly more traffic noise in the distance for lack of any other defining characteristic.

A spotted dog gamboled the opposite way, running past her with its tongue hanging out as it panted. She watched it warily, but it paid little attention to her, its tags jingling around its neck. Somewhere nearby children could be heard squabbling over something, a baby cried, something with a very squeaky wheel rolled along. For a quiet residential street, it was really quite noisy. She reached the intersection and crossed to the next block.

Behind her, the panting dog slowed to a trot, then a walk, then to a wandering snuffle as he nosed around a telephone pole, some tree trunks and flowerbeds and white-painted fencing. Reaching the alleyway, he stopped for a moment then trotted forward to sniff curiously and suspiciously about a tall blue box. He circled it quickly, and was just settling into a longer, deeper investigation of the interesting and unusual scents when someone grabbed his collar.

" _Urf!"_

"Ribsy!" A small girl with short brown hair exclaimed as she wrapped an arm about the dog's neck. "What are you doing here? Where's Henry?" she asked. Ribsy whacked a tail hopefully at the sound of his young master's name and sat, waiting for the girl to let go. Long experience with her had taught him patience was the only way to deal with this particular girl; Ramona Quimby was a very determined five-year old.

She was looking up at the blue box now with wide eyes. "A fort!" she said in great admiration. It looked like it had been made from one of those big wooden crates, like Mr. and Mrs. Kemp had their new furnace come in the previous summer, and it was even painted blue which was one of her very favorite colours after brown and pink and yellow and orange. The door was cracked open. She looked down at the spotted mutt that was still waiting for her to release his neck. "You want to see what's in there, Ribsy? You do, don't you. You want to go in. You don't have to be 'fraid, I'll go with you," she declared.

Pushing the door a little further open, she went in, dragging the reluctant dog with her by his collar. His toenails squeaked and clicked as he tried to back up, sliding across the smooth floor inside with a small anxious whine.

"Oooo!" Ramona said in wonder. What a fort! Why, it was bigger than Grandpa's camper he used for fishing trips, and it smelled nicer too. She lifted her nose and sniffed, encouraging the dog to do likewise. After a snootful of the unusual air, even Ribsy apparently thought it worth a few moments of investigation; a moment of indecision was quickly passed and soon his nose was sniffing busily all around the edges of the big room with its swiss-cheese walls, though he still kept one eye on Ramona.

She was looking up curiously at the strange table in the center of the room, a round one with knobs and buttons all over it. Politely folding her fingers behind her back as she'd so often been told by Beezus, her parents, her teachers and well, everybody, Ramona stood on tip-toe to see it better. They were all kinds of colours and shapes and some of them had little symbols and numbers and words on them. She looked around. There wasn't anyone watching, so she slowly unfolded her fingers. Why did so much of the world want her to always keep her fingers behind her back anyway? Grown-ups didn't. In a small defiance, she lifted her hands up but couldn't quite work up the courage to actually touch any of the bright and interesting controls. Well, maybe just one. She gently poked one with a pinky finger, just because she could. Nothing happened.

Growing slightly bolder, she poked another one, not noticing that Ribsy's head went up, his ears cocking at the sight of the door swinging the rest of the way shut.

"Wuff."

Ramona circled the console table once more then, noticing the hallway leading off to one side, went to stick her head in it. More swiss-cheese walls. "This is a really big fort," she told the dog. "Come on, Ribsy!"

Ribsy gave a small wag at the sound of his name and agreeably headed off down the hallway, toenails clicking. Ramona followed.

It was only a few minutes later that the Doctor, reemerged from his lower-level repairs, coming back out into the hallway with a small part in his hand that he fiddled with as he walked. "Romana?" he called as he came back into the console room. "I think I've a good temporary patch for the…" He stopped. There was no sign of her and no answer. While he was sure he'd heard someone down the hallway, there was no sign of a newspaper, though she'd closed the door. He prodded the coat rack just to be sure she wasn't hiding and then with a shrug, screwed the piece he'd brought into place and tapped in a few coordinates to send his ship back into the waiting Vortex.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

Half-way down the second block, Romana was just settling into a regular stride when a boy on a bicycle rounded the far corner and came towards her, weaving strangely as he went. He was wearing a fat canvas sack bulging with…

"Newspapers!" Romana breathed. She took it in stride that the newspapers were apparently distributed by means of children on bicycles and stepped out into the street to wave this one down. He peddled towards her, reaching into his bag to extract a folded paper and flinging it out with practiced precision to land on the walkway of one of the houses. Two houses down, he repeated this performance again, paying her no mind.

She moved to the center and waved her hands. The boy frowned and adjusted his trajectory to go around her, so she moved again. He swerved slightly, she ran to block him.

"Hey!" he objected in confusion as he was forced to hit the brakes to avoid colliding with her. "What are you doing? I might have hit you."

"So sorry," Romana said and reached out to pluck one of the folded bundles from his shoulder-bag. "I just need to see one of your newspapers."

"Then maybe you should get a subscription," Henry frowned, not without some irritation though she _was_ a grown-up and she _was_ being very matter-of-factly polite. A thought struck him and he brightened slightly. "You want to buy one? I can sell you one."

"No thank you. Ah," she said, locating the date. "1957. Thank you." She folded it back up neatly, popped the rubber band back around it and courteously handed it back to him before walking back to the sidewalk.

What a strange woman, Henry thought. He wondered if she might be that new Avon lady his mother had mentioned, the one who was going around selling perfumes and nail polish and things door to door. Or maybe she was just visiting someone; her voice reminded him of those people who did wildlife documentaries on television, all formal-like. Usually Ribsy barked at strangers.

Pedaling away, he adjusted his bag and looked around realizing what it was he was missing. "Ribsy? Ribsy!… Riiiibsy! Here boy! Where've you got to?" he called as he went, paying no more heed to the strange woman as she walked quickly down the block and back around the corner to the alleyway he'd already passed.

Behind him, Romana rounded the corner, took two steps and stopped. The TARDIS was gone.

"Well, that seems to have been a step in the right direction at least," the Doctor said to himself. He patted the console and then headed down the hallway, looking for Romana.

Ribsy turned his head and gave a little whine. Ramona nodded at him and patted one of his ears. "It's a really, really long fort, isn't it?" she whispered to him, then held her breath as she heard the same thing the dog already had. Footsteps coming their way. They sounded like really big footsteps too. Big, giant footsteps.

Seeing a doorway to the side, Ramona pushed it open and pulled Ribsy in after her, closing it all but a crack again to watch outside. The room itself was something like a messy bedroom with makeup stuff on the dresser that reminded her of her mother's things and gave it the faint but familiar scent of face-powder. Out in the hall, the big footsteps man came by and he was just as big as his footsteps had sounded! It was a Giant, she was sure of it! He strode past and around a corner without stopping.

Ramona looked at Ribsy, who had sniffed around the bed and come up with dust-bunnies on his nose. "Let's go back out," she whispered, "There's a Giant living in here!" Opening the door, she tip-toed out into the hallway and then ran back the way they'd come, Ribsy running ahead of her, apparently just as eager.

They burst back into the room with the funny table of knobs. The door was closed! Ramona started to be a little scared. There wasn't even a knob to turn! Behind her she heard the Giant with his big footsteps starting to come back.

"Romana?" The Doctor came back into the console room, glancing around, still finding no sign of Romana, which at this point was starting to be unusual. After an event like this morning's she normally would have been hounding him for some kind of capitulation about the foibles of their most recent landing, at least giving him a good rolling of the eyes and so on. It was most odd that she wasn't.

"I still need to enter the previous date to recalibrate," he announced loudly. "Romana? Where are you? Romana!"

A voice finally answered him, but it wasn't the voice he had expected.

Ramona was greatly surprised, slightly scared and a bit startled that the big giant man with the big voice and big eyes and big teeth knew her name. On the other hand, now that she'd had a chance to look him over more carefully, she could see he wasn't anything at all like the muscley, hairy Giants in her nursery book. They had big teeth too but theirs were all crookedy and pointy. He even had hair, lots of big hair, and in her picture book they were all bald with nothing but little scribbles for that.

She tentatively came out from where she'd hidden herself behind the coats on the coat-rack when he'd so suddenly breezed back into the room. "What?" she asked.

He stared at this small apparition, which made his big eyes even bigger. "Romana?"

She nodded. "What's _your_ name?" she asked.

The Doctor didn't answer for a moment. He was shocked. Had she somehow regressed? Her former body had dark hair like that. Was it even possible? What anomaly could possibly take a Time Lady and regress her to a five year old – in the TARDIS? Or had it happened back on Earth?

The Doctor carefully knelt down to be closer to her current size. "Romana! What happened?"

The child returned his stare and frowned. "RaMOna," she corrected.

"Romana?"

"RAMONA!" she said louder. Maybe the big man was like old Mr. Henderson and not so good with his ears anymore.

The Doctor mirrored her frown. "Romanadvoratrelundar?" he tried.

"Hunkydinkydoopydoo," Ramona responded. Now _this_ sort of nonsense game she could understand.

"K-9!" he called.

"Q-6!" Ramona said.

"K-9!"

"B-5!"

The Doctor looked at her and suddenly grinned, then turned to a rolling metal box that was coming their way. Ramona looked at it curiously then with a growing admiration. She liked this man now, he had something that was even better than pretending the vacuum cleaner as a dog, his vacuum cleaner _was_ a dog! The Doctor considered her wide-eyed look and wondered if Romana's adult memories would have receded with the adult form.

"Do you know this dog?" he asked.

She nodded. Of course she could tell it was a dog! It even had a little thing for a tail. It was a very good dog too. She wished she had a dog like that.

"Hm," he said. "K-9, is that Romana?"

The dog's metal ears rotated briefly. "Negative, Master."

"It's not a younger version of her former self in any way? Any way at all? Some sort of regression?"

A thin antennae extended from its head, making Ramona wonder if it might also suddenly begin to play radio music. "Negative. No regressive characteristics detected."

"Negative? Are you sure?" the Doctor asked.

"Very sure, Master. The small being in question is undoubtedly from Earth. Mistress Romana is not from Earth…"

"Yes, yes, right," the Doctor waved a hand. "Good enough."

Ramona, who had taken the metal vacuum-cleaner dog being able to talk in stride well enough suddenly realized she herself under discussion. "What does _negadiv_ mean?" she demanded.

"No."

'No' was something she heard frequently enough a little clarification was in order. "No what?" she wondered.

"In this case, no, you aren't Romana."

"I am SO Ramona!" she stamped her foot. This man was ridiculous. She stamped her foot again for good measure and briefly considered working up a small tantrum for emphasis but Beezus wasn't there to see it and she still wasn't sure about this big man, though she kind of liked the way his face was all sort of oversized. Even his hair. She liked his boingy hair. He was still looking at her with those big eyes, like a goldfish. She remembered the goldfish they'd had last spring, the one Beezus won at the school carnival. It died and then it floated around on the top of the water with its belly up.

"If you died, would your stomach stick up?" she asked.

"If I died?" the Doctor echoed in bafflement. "What a fascinating question. I suppose it would depend on which way I landed at the time. What do you think, K-9?"

"Insufficient data to make a determination."

"Ribsy likes it when his stomach sticks up, if you rub it," Ramona continued in a matter-of-fact way, pointing behind him. "He's right there."

The Doctor turned carefully – one never knew what manner of creature or companion suddenly appearing miniaturized quasi-Romana's might come equipped with after all – and started slightly as a panting dog's nose thrust towards his face, snuffling. He grinned and reached out to scrub at the dog's ears, eliciting a wag at the opposite end of the beast. "A dog!" he said with some delight. "Ooh, and you're a fine fellow, aren't you? Real Earth dog, K-9?"

"Affirmative."

"Oh yes you are! You are. Shall I scratch your ears? But of course, hmm, there, that feels nice now doesn't it? What did you say his name was?"

"That's Ribsy," Ramona said, surprised and a little jealous at the way Henry's dog, which had always been polite but cautious in a longsuffering way with her was so quick to accept this stranger, leaning into his hands and lolling his tongue out slightly with delight as the man scratched around his collar setting his tags to jingling. "He's _Henry's_ ," she added pointedly.

"Ah, I see. And 'Henry' is about here somewhere as well then?"

"'Course not! He's throwing papers."

He wasn't sure what to make of this occupation, so he pursued his original thought. "So he's not in the TARDIS?" He saw her suspicious frown at the strange word, as if it were a trick question and waved a hand, adding "Here. This place, this is the TARDIS."

She nodded at that. A tardis was obviously his word for his funny house, like Howie calling his and Willa-Jean's refrigerator carton with holes cut out of it for windows the Box with Holes when it was _obviously_ a space ship. Ramona had even added a Martian on the side with a green crayon, so now she could prove it. "I like your tardis," she assured him helpfully. "It would be better with Martians. I can make Martians."

"Can you?" he asked, not sure what to make of this unusual skill being volunteered. "I'm the Doctor, by the way," he added, shaking her hand as if she were a real grown-up and thereby gaining several dozen merit points in her eyes. It also probably explained to her why the walls and everything were so white; doctors liked things white. Every picture she'd ever seen of a doctor they even had white coats. Not that this doctor had a white coat, which was a good thing since Ribsy's paws probably weren't very clean. "Henry isn't here, then?" he persisted.

"Ribsy's just _looking_ for Henry," she said. "He lives at Henry's house. Someday when I'm bigger I'm going to marry Henry and we'll have a bajillion of dogs just like Ribsy. And I'll have a circus."

"Right," he nodded in comic seriousness. "We need to get you home, don't we? The sooner the better. Look, you stay right here! Don't leave this room. I'll take you home."

He turned back to the waiting console as Ramona frowned behind him. She didn't want to go home yet, she was enjoying this strange little tardis-house with all of its rooms and things, and she definitely didn't like to be told to hold still. Ribsy whined as the Doctor left off petting him to go to the console. Ramona hugged him tight around the neck, looking at the Doctor's back, then had an idea.

"Go find Henry, Ribsy! Go find Henry! Go home!" she commanded.

The dog's ears popped up and he promptly shot down the hallway barking in excitement, skidding around the corners. Henry had to be near, or Ramona wouldn't have said so.

Ramona followed.

"Hey, now! Come back here…" the Doctor started to call after them then stopped and scrubbed at his hair in resignation. "K-9?"

"Yes, Master?"

"It appears we've acquired some stowaways and possibly lost Romana in the process." He reached up and grabbed a handful of his hair, tugging it thoughtfully then ran a hand down over his face at the thought of Romana's potential reaction to having been rather unexpectedly abandoned. "Pbbbllft. Well. I suppose this means I have to find my way back. Go find those two, try to keep them out of trouble will you?"

"Affirmative." The little tin dog rolled obediently down the hallway after the retreating echoes.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3**

Romana made her way up the alley to the next block, considered the additional tree-lined streets and turned around and made her way back down. She had no idea why the Doctor would have taken off without her, but if it were accidental – and with him this was much more likely than malice, perhaps even guaranteed – he would no doubt be attempting to return to the approximate time and place. Better not to wander too much. She could always come up with Plan B later on if it were called for.

"Excuse me, Ma'am, have you seen a little girl?" Romana turned to find a brown-haired young girl, perhaps ten or eleven, in a clean, simple dress. She was politely waiting for an answer, though she looked slightly anxious.

"A girl?"

"She's about this high, brown hair, kind of noisy, wearing overalls?"

"No, I'm sorry. I'm afraid I was looking for something I've lost myself."

"Maybe we can look together!" the girl, Beezus, nodded agreeably. "What are you looking for?"

"A blue box," she smiled.

"I haven't seen any blue boxes yet," Beezus said, "but I'll keep an eye out while I look."

"All right." Romana indicated the alleyway, which she had no intention of straying too far from at this point. "I'll go this way, you go that way," she offered and started to walk away only to be brought up by the girl's exclamation.

"Oh look, there's her trike!"

"Trike?" asked Romana, turning to follow Beezus' pointing finger. A small red-painted metal conveyance lay sideways beside a nearby bush.

"That's Ramona's tricycle," Beezus said, going to it and giving the handlebars a small tug of confirmation.

"If it's a tricycle, it should have three wheels," the woman behind her noted.

Beezus coloured slightly at her sister's quirks. "Her friend Howie took off one of the wheels, because she said she wanted a two-wheeler," she explained, slightly embarrassed. "She rides it kind of sideways."

"Of course," Romana nodded, gaining a grateful look from Beezus for not making a big deal of it. "What did you say her name was?"

"Ramona," Beezus supplied and wondered at the smile on the stranger's face. "Have you heard of her?" It wouldn't have surprised her if the woman had, Ramona's reputation tended to precede her around the neighborhood, especially to anyone who had just moved in. "She really isn't that bad," she continued in loyal defense, "She just has a lot of imagination."

"No, no. I was just thinking it was a very nice name," Romana said. She stuck out a hand. "I'm afraid I didn't properly introduce myself, did I? I'm Romana," she said.

Beezus looked surprised, then shook her hand briefly in return. "And I'm Beatrice Quimby," she said, "But everyone calls me Beezus. Your name is really Ramona too?"

"Not Ramona, _Romana_ ," Romana said, mildly amused. "Though the two are quite similar, aren't they?"

"Like something from Rome or Romans? Neat!" Beezus said. "Your family must have history teachers in it."

"Something like that," she said. "Now. Let's see if we can find what we're looking for, shall we?"

By the time K-9 caught up to them, Ribsy's search for anything that smelled at all like his boy had led him to the slight mustiness of the somewhat large room that served as the TARDIS' boot cupboard and Ramona was thrilled with it. It was even better than a shoe store, because all of the shoes were _boots_ , and she loved boots. Not a stiff, boring patent leather loafer in sight, and no shoe salesmen telling her to not touch. Small piles were already scattered about the room and she was sitting on the floor trying to fit an extra large pair over the slightly smaller pair she was already wearing, which in turn had easily swallowed up her own grubby shoes.

K-9 rolled up to her and Ramona promptly used him as a prop to help get herself back onto her feet. The orange leather boots she now wore went clear up past her knees and she thought they looked wonderful.

"Look, Ribsy! Look K-9!" she said happily and started shuffle-clumping across the floor. "I have big, giant feet!" She had to lift her entire leg to take each step; the boots made it difficult for her to even bend her knees. Walking with stiffened legs worked a little better and immediately appealed to her imagination. "I'm a robot!" she declared, stiffening her arms and walking in imitation of a wind-up toy she'd once seen at the toy-store. "I'm a robot, see? Bzzzt! Bzzzt! Bzzzt!"

K-9 turned his ear inquiringly. "No robotic constructs detected. All present life forms are organic in nature, this unit excepted," he said, rolling after her.

Ramona clumped out the door into the hallway. "Bzzzt! Bzzzt!" she buzzed loudly. "I-am-a-robot," she said in an exaggerated monotone. "I-drink-cans-of-oil. Bzzzt!" Stiff-armed she continued on down the hall with a metal dog rolling after her.

"Life form is of Earth origin,"" he repeated. "Oil is not required."

"I-drink-cans-of-oil," she repeated, just because it was fun to say.

Behind them, Ribsy gamely walked after, sniffing curiously at the metal dog in dog fashion.

K-9's tail suddenly moved, whacking him across the snout and making him yip and startle back. "This unit does not approve of close olfactory investigation," K-9 said sternly. Ahead of them, Ramona clumped robotically around a corner and suddenly stopped.

"A swimming pool!" she said in delight, forgetting to sound robotic. She shuffled forward. This place was better than a hotel! The dogs rolled and ambled respectively around the corner after her, the panting Ribsy perking up at the sight of water and quickly going to lap his tongue at the edge.

Ramona followed him; she was thirsty too and since there hadn't been anything like a drinking fountain anywhere yet, she saw no reason to wait for one. Bending, she scooped her hand into the pool. She hadn't counted on the difficulty of balancing with two pairs of boots on though.

She windmilled briefly and fell in.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4**

"Riiibsyyy!" Ramona cried as she came up from the water, coughing and choking. She couldn't swim without floaties, all she knew was a dog-paddle and the boots were pulling her down. Panicked, she kicked and the largest ones came off, floating to the top beside her as she thrashed and scrabbled at the slippery side.

There was a second splash as Ribsy, whining, jumped in after her.

K-9 rolled back and forth for a moment in uncertainty. "Swimming is recommended activity."

"I can't _swiiiiim_!" Ramona bubbled, crying now as she grabbed at Ribsy, nearly dunking him in his confused attempt at helping her.

K-9's lights blinked briefly as he digested this bit of data and quickly rolled to the wall where his antennae extended to punch a red-buttoned control. There was a huge slurping sound as multiple drain filters whirred opened simultaneously, rapidly sucking the water from the pool.

Ribsy, with Ramona clinging to him paddled desperately, whining as the two of them were tossed and whirled around, the eddies taking them, then pulling them up against the nearest grated drain on the pool's side. Screeching, spitting and gasping, they slid down with the level of the water until they suddenly found themselves sitting on the bottom of the pool. The sound of a dozen giant soda-straws hitting the bottom of a soda-glass slurped to a stop around them. Ramona coughed, still clinging to handfuls of wet dog and looked around in astonishment. The water was now no deeper than a baby's wading pool.

Up above them, a small metal dog surveyed the results. "Danger averted," he informed them and moved his tail encouragingly.

Ramona looked around the pool, noting the discarded boots now at the far end where they'd come to rest against another drain. She stood up, dripping, and wiped an arm across her nose. Ribsy clambered back to all fours and shook himself, spattering her with more water and wet dog hair.

She looked up at the robotic dog. "I'm wanna get out," she said.

"Suggest climbing ladder," K-9 obliged, rolling over to the item in question. It reached nearly to the bottom. Hooking a hand into Ribsy's collar, Ramona sloshed over to it. She could just reach the bottom rung, but that was all.

"I can't reach!" she said, "An' Ribsy can't climb ladders." Her lip trembled as she tried not to cry. Now that the excitement was past, she was feeling shaken and desperately missed her mother and Beezus. She put her face down into Ribsy's wet fur and sniffled, trying to be brave.

"Help required. Will fetch the Doctor-Master," K-9 suddenly informed her and he rolled away.

"Well now, what have we here?" a large voice asked them, echoing around the empty pool. The little girl down below lifted her head from where he'd been leaning it on the dog and pushed her wet hair back from her face. The large man, the Doctor, was looking down at them from above. He grinned widely. "Gone for a bit of a swim?" Swinging down over the edge, he rapidly descended the metal ladder and stooped towards her, holding out a hand. "Well, come on then. I'll lift you up."

Ramona nodded and sloshed towards him, still sniffling slightly. He was surprisingly comforting and gentle for a big, loud stranger and as he boosted her up on his shoulders, she found she liked his squashy scarf and the smell of his big boingy hair. Reaching up, she took the ladder and climbed the small distance still remaining after his boost; he was a very tall big Doctor.

Turning around, she watched as he quickly tucked the bedraggled Ribsy under one arm and half-ran up the ladder, mutt in hand, releasing him over the edge where he promptly braced his feet and shook, shook again and waved the wet banner of his tail.

The Doctor reached down to pat him and to smooth the damp ears. "There you go, old boy." He looked back at the empty pool. "Well, let's see what we can do about getting you dry." Striding across to a glassed in tiny room on the side, he pulled a little lever and popped open the door, then turned to Ramona. "In you go!" he said cheerily. "It's a drying chamber. If you like, I can have it clean your clothes at the same time."

The girl nodded, trying to act casual, as if this were something she had done a hundred times before, though her eyes were too wide to complete the act. Still, she slowly stepped inside. The room was nothing but a little smooth bench to sit on and lots of little nozzles and holes all over the walls and ceiling and even the floor. The door closed, but since it was glass this didn't particularly bother her. She got up on the bench and dangled her feet curiously.

There was a whoosh and gentle warm air began blowing all around her and over her clothing. It smelled like flowers, fruity bubblegum and floor cleaner, all things she liked. She grinned back at the Doctor's grin through the glass and then stood up on the bench. "More!" she called out to him as loud as she could. "More!" His grin widened even further and he did something with a knob. The wind increased, sending her hair waving and streaming, first to one side and then to the other, then straight up. Ramona laughed and danced about, waving her arms, her hair waving above her and the buttons on her overalls buzzing in the vibration. This was way better than towels.

By the time the wind died down, she was warm, dry and greatly cheered up. The Doctor opened the glass door. "How did you like that?"

She ran out and hugged his leg briefly in a burst of youthful enthusiasm. "Let's put Ribsy in there!"

Ribsy, however, had been watching these proceedings with a growing level of consternation. His ears didn't like all the whooshing and humming going on and the smells that came out when the door was opened reminded him of when Henry was getting ready to give him a bath. By the time the tall man and the noisy girl turned towards him, he had already decided that he wasn't _about_ to let them get him into that little room.

He ran. The TARDIS gave a little vibration.

The Doctor shook his head as he watched the dog scud out of the room, tail low, his attention more on the faint flicker there had been in the lights. Ramona was already running after the wayward creature. "K-9?"

"Yes, Master?"

"Go keep an eye on them again, will you? You'll keep things well in hand, I'm sure. I need to check on our progress." He strode back out into the hallway and off to the console room, leaving the small tin dog to scoot along after the stowaways.

"This unit does not come equipped with hands."


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5**

"Riiii-ii-iibsy!" called Henry, panting as he pedaled. Drat that dog, where had he gone to? He couldn't spend too much more time looking for him or he'd never finish his paper route in time. "Ribsy! Here boy!"

He'd gone all the way around the two most recent blocks, backtracking and calling but there was no sign of his beloved spotted mutt. Other dogs barked at him excitedly from behind their fences and bounced at the end of their ropes to answer his call, but none of them were Ribsy.

Frustrated, red-faced and sweaty, he decided he was going to have to finish the route and then come back to look again, presuming Ribsy hadn't just taken it into his head to run on ahead and meet him at home, something he had done in the past, though only rarely.

He cut across a driveway and into the alley that crossed the block between two rows of houses, splashing his bicycle through the puddles in the hard-packed gravel.

"Hi, Henry!"

He looked up, surprised to see Beezus there as well as the blonde woman who had stopped him just a little while earlier. He braked, putting down a foot to balance and waving back as he tried to catch his breath again. "Hi, Beezus," he puffed. "Have you seen Ribsy?"

"No," Beezus said with mild surprise. "Is he missing too? I'm looking for Ramona."

"Oh no," Henry groaned angrily. "If she's done something to my dog _again_ …"

"Henry Huggins," glowered Beezus, crossing her arms. "That wasn't very nice. I don't know where she is, but you just can't go blaming her every time your dog goes running loose."

"Sorry," he said, though he only partly meant it. Beezus was okay, and he didn't really want to make her angry at him. But then, this _was_ Ramona. "But this _is_ Ramona we're talking about," he pointed out, deciding to voice it out loud.

"I take it she's done something with the dog before?" asked the strange woman with a small smile.

He looked at her, still undecided about her presence in their neighborhood. "Yeaaah," he said vaguely, not wanting to be a gossip in front of strangers. Beezus was one thing, but he didn't need to contribute to a rumour mill.

"I'm sure they'll turn up," encouraged Beezus. "When we find Ramona, I'll ask her if she's seen Ribsy."

"I doubt the dog will be able to return the favor," the woman observed. Beezus laughed. Henry scowled slightly, not appreciating them taking it so lightly. He could be in big trouble if his dog damaged anyone's property, for instance, and he was getting a little worried. Beezus noticed his reticence towards the newcomer.

"This is Romana," she introduced belatedly. "She's lost a blue box and was looking for it, so I'm helping her look for that and she's helping me look for Ramona. You're looking for Ribsy, so now we can all _three_ of us look for all three things!"

"Haven't seen any blue boxes laying around," Henry said, shaking his head. "But I'll let you know if I do. Thanks. I better get back to my route," he added, putting a foot to a pedal. "Nice to meet you."

He pedaled away then out onto the road. "Riii-ib-sy!" he tried one more time before he had to concentrate on which houses got papers again.

Romana and Beezus watched him go. "What does your sister do to his dog?" Romana wondered curiously.

"Oh, you know. Little kid stuff," Beezus shrugged. "Bows on his tail, sticking perfume on him, that kind of thing. Henry's a boy so he doesn't want his dog to smell like a girl's dog. You know how boys can be about their dogs."

"Yes, I see," smiled Romana. "I know a boy like that. Now, where were we? You go this way, I'll go that way."

Having left the fearsome bath behind, Ribsy eventually slowed to a trot, then a walk, his tongue lolling slightly as Ramona came up after him. She reached out and scratched at his neck as he walked, making him pause to just enjoy it. The pause made Ramona notice another door that wasn't quite closed. She reached out to push at it, then switched from scratching at Ribsy's collar to grabbing it and dragging him once more with her. It was another bedroom!

Ramona looked around, deciding she liked the bright coloured bedding and the bright posters on the walls. The one with the powder-blue daisies was especially pretty.

While Ribsy snuffled around the edges and crunched something he found in a wrapper on the floor, Ramona investigated the vanity mirror. (she liked how her hair was sticking all over the place after being air-dried) and then the contents of the small containers scattered in front of it. There was lip-stick, a few rings that were too big for her fingers, a really soft hairbrush and a couple perfume bottles. Little colored pictures of soldiers were stuck on the sides of the mirror.

She started to lose interest in what was, to her, typical boring big girl stuff when she pried open an oval container and found it partially filled with scented powder, topped with a fat pink powder-puff. Now _that_ was interesting. Dipping the puff, she shook it.

 _Poof._ The pink powder puff shot a cloud of sweet scent into the air. _Poof!_ She shook it over Ribsy. He was still stinking from being wet, after all. She thought it a nice improvement.

Ribsy obviously didn't and shook himself, then promptly ran out of the room into the nearest open doorway only to find it was a bathroom. Circling anxiously he tried to stuff himself under the sink and when that didn't work, ran back out. Ramona was there. "Gotcha!" she cried, trying to tackle him and missing, the powder-puff flying off to the side, leaving a trail of white. Ramona grabbed up a green perfume atomizer with daisies on it and followed, excited by the chase. The unfortunate dog squirmed away from her again, then getting down on his belly, he worked his way under the bed. Unfortunately, his pursuer could fit under a bed almost as easily.

"Gotcha!" Ramona repeated triumphantly, spritzing the dog's hindquarters with the atomizer as she shimmied along with her elbows after him. The cologne was stronger than expected and both of them sneezed explosively.

The bed turned out to have dust beneath it but also old magazines with pictures of people dressed in funny clothes on them. There were rumpled clothes too; it reminded her of the way she would sometimes kick her clothes under her bed in hers and Beezus' shared bedroom when she didn't feel like picking them up.

Ribsy made it out the other side and sneezed again. Ramona reached out dragging a pair of promising lumpy objects out with her as she followed. Sure enough, her treasures were more boots! Tall, soft yellow ones with long, long heels on them like her mother sometimes wore when she was going to town but even longer. She wanted to show them to someone.

Outside the door she heard K-9 rolling to a stop. "K-9!" she called.

"Present and functioning."

"I wanna show the Doctor something. Where'd he go?"

"This unit is prepared to lead you to the Doctor," K-9 responded equitably. "Previous behaviour indicates logical choice is console room. Please follow."


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6**

The Doctor, swinging along and immensely pleased with himself that he'd finally solved the hitch that had been preventing his tracing back to the previous position, strode into the console room to enter the last bit of data he needed. And stopped, aghast.

Ramona was not only in the room, she was _riding the central console pillar_ up and down in tall yellow boots that were much too long for her. The high heels would have made them impossible to walk in, which could explain why she had them on her arms.

No small child, recently cleaned or not, should be _up on top_ of his beloved console. It was practically a form of sacrilege to the Doctor. He immediately lunged forward and without even giving warning, lifted her bodily right off of the pillar.

"Hey!" Ramona protested, kicking. "I wasn't done with my ride!" She waved her be-booted arms. "I'm a crab and the crab trap got me and the fishermen were going to take me away in their boat," she told him and waved her high-heeled hands near his face. "Clack! Clack! I'll get you with my claws! Put me back up!"

Instead, he put her down on her feet and rubbed his forehead. "Yes, well. You go be a Macra or whatever you're doing, just don't do it near my console!"

"A what?"

"A Macra…" he blew out a breath in frustration, discarding her trying to distract him. He pointed back at the column. "What matters is _that_ could have been quite dangerous."

She considered this, not really sure if she believed him. "It's not dangerous," she challenged and ran towards the console again.

Reaching out a long arm he snagged her and reeled her back, turning her to look him full in the face. "Oh yes," he said seriously, suddenly dropping his voice to a depth and resonance that made her eyes go wide. "Verrry verrry _dangerous_." She stared at him. His voice shifted to a terrifying whisper. "You don't want to know what happened to the last little girl who used my console for a jungle-gym."

They stared at one another. He won. They both knew it. "Now go keep yourself occupied," he said in a more normal tone with a pat to her shoulder. "I have work to do."

Ramona nodded. Grown-ups _did_ always have work to do; she was used to that. She waved the yellow boots in the air again, rallying. "I'm a macaroni!" she said, thinking he might he flattered that she'd taken on his idea. The boots _did_ look a bit like pasta. "I'm a macaroni!"

The Doctor flipped his scarf back over his shoulder and tried to tune her out. Now what was that algorithm?

Lacking any reaction on being a macaroni, the girl behind him dropped the boots and wandered over to the wall where Ribsy lay dejectedly with his head on his paws, reeking of perfume. She patted him and sat down by him for a couple minutes, just watching as the Doctor continued to poke at little buttons on the console, then looking around at the plain swiss-cheese walls suddenly got back up. There was something it lacked to make it a proper fort that she knew she could add, just like she'd told the Doctor earlier.

Digging in her pocket she extracted a small chunk of green crayon and picked the fuzz off of it, then picking a roundel at random, drew a Martian. He didn't come out quite like she'd wanted so she moved on to the next one and drew another.

She was on her third Martian and scribbling in his green arms when the entire room gave a little shudder and the lights gave a little flicker. She looked around. The console column had stopped rising and falling and the Doctor was grinning at it happily.

He patted it in a triumphant manner and turned on the scanner.

"Hey!"" Ramona said, pointing. "My two-wheeler is on TV!"

Beezus glanced around, wondering what that odd grinding noise was. It didn't continue and there was no sign of anything odd, so she went back to working her way along the street checking inside any hedge, woodshed, doghouse or other structure that a child of her sister's imagination might be able to take for a fort. Ramona had been fascinated with having a fort or clubhouse ever since her friend had made one out of a big cardboard box. "Ramona? Ramona!" she continued to call. "Come out, Ramona! I'll help you make a fort from the couch cushions again if you do," she wheedled. "Ramona!" Flipping over a small, empty yellow candy box that had fallen from someone's trash, she wondered what was in the blue box the prim-sounding woman was looking for. Jewelry, maybe? She hadn't said and Beezus didn't want to pry.

On the opposite side of the block, the same sound was heard. A petite blond woman turned and suddenly began pell-mell running back towards the alleyway, one hand to her hat, completely ignoring the stares of an elderly couple on their nearby porch. Their poodle yapped shrilly as they shook their heads over her odd manner of dress and behaviour. Young people these days, they just had no sense of decorum.

The Doctor hit the door control and the panel swung open to reveal the same alleyway they'd started off in, only a couple of yards further in than before. The scent of the damp earth and trees came swishing into the room along with distant traffic noise and birdsong. Somewhere a small dog was yapping.

Ribsy's head shot up, ears perking. He wasted no time at all, scrabbling his feet, he launched himself out of the TARDIS with a joyful bark and rapidly galloping off towards the street. His nose held high was filled with the good, clean scent of Klickitat Street. He barked in reply to the yapping poodle around the corner, dashing past a woman running the other way with his tail held high and waving in anticipation of seeing Henry again. His only stop was for a good roll in the dirt to get some of the strange smells from his fur.

"Ribsy!" Ramona yelled and ran out after him. She stopped in dismay as the dog rapidly put the distance between them and turned back to where her two-wheeled tricycle still sat against a bush. She was still struggling to get it going as a strange woman came running up to her.

Ramona looked at her wide-eyed and clutched her trike, but the woman just went right on past her with barely a pause.

"Romana!" came the big Doctor's voice.

She jumped up. "This is my two-wheeler!" she yelled back at him "See?"

" _Doctor!_ " the blonde woman was scolding as she went right into the blue tardis-fort. "Whatever did you think you were doing, leaving me like that?"

"Romana!" the Doctor scolded right back. "Don't you _ever_ turn into a small child again! Ever, I tell you. I get a twitch just _contemplating_ any repetition whatsoever. I demand that you stay at complete maturity from this point onward!"

" _I'm_ immature?"

"It's a perfectly reasonable demand, isn't it, K-9?"

"Insufficient data, Master," the metal dog replied as the doors swung shut.

'Hey!" yelled Ramona, who didn't like being shut out of things. She got off her lopsided trike and knocked on the door. "Hey!" There was no answer. After a couple minutes of this being to no avail she decided she'd go get Beezus. Her polite sister was always good at getting grown-ups to open up their doors to her.

-.

" _There_ you are! Ramona Geraldine Quimby, where have you been?" demanded Beezus, half angry, half relieved as the kindergartner came squeaking and wobbling on her ridiculous trike down the sidewalk. "I've been looking all over for you!"

"There's a blue box!" Ramona exclaimed, ignoring her sister's inquiry. She pointed back the way she'd come. "It's a fort but the doctor in it won't open the door for me."

"What?" Beezus said. "A blue box! There's a lady looking for one. Where was it?"

"Over here!" Ramona said, happy to find Beezus so willing to follow her. She abandoned her tricycle and ran back down the sidewalk, Beezus right behind her. They turned the corner and Ramona suddenly stopped in dismay. "It's gone!"

"What's gone?"

"The blue box! It had a doctor in it, and a metal dog. And a swimming pool! Ribsy an' me almost drownded!"

"Ramona," groaned Beezus. "You didn't do anything to Ribsy did you? You know Mother said you were supposed to leave Henry's dog alone!"

"Really!" Ramona protested and stamped her foot. "I really _did_ almost drownded with Ribsy. And there was a big, giant doctor! And a whole room full of boots!"

Beezus shook her head at the ridiculousness of it all. "Oh Ramona, will you _ever_ grow up?"


End file.
